him
by nabsleuth
Summary: i have had this idea in my head for awhile now. it is adult oriented and i dont plan on making it a very long story. please read it and give your feedback as i love reading the reviews. thank you.
1. Chapter 1

"Just another day in my living hell. I am currently sitting on the hard, dirty mattress of my cell listening to "him" get high with his "friends" upstairs. I can't even call "him" by his name anymore, not after what "he" has done to me, I just hate "him" too much

"We used to be really good friends, best friends, I considered "him" my brother, but then "he" got into drugs. Now, instead of using his money to pay for "his" addiction, "he" uses me.

"I have been assaulted in multiple ways, by multiple, sick assholes, including "him" himself.

"If I don't let it happen, and try and fight back, I get punished. Either beat, tied up, or starved.

"This has been happening for over a span of three months. I have lost a significant amount of weight.

"I have a small window in this dirt floor cell, and I have gotten good at determining the time, considering I don't have much else to do down here.

"I fear every time that door opens, because it's usually never for a good thing.

"Here's how this happened.

"I had went over to "his" house after he invited me over. "He" had been acting really weird lately, and no one knew why, and I was determined to find out.

"He" had made me angry the night before when I tried to confront "him" about his change it attitude, and "he" didn't appreciate it at all.

"When I got to "his" house, he acted all apologetic for "his" behavior, and "he" was under a lot of stress lately.

"I just brushed it off and figured if I wanted to get to the bottom of things, I needed to approach it with a friendly tone.

"He" offered me a drink, which I obliged and we sat on "his" couch, and sipped our drinks. Not too long after I started my drink, I started to feel dizzy, and I didn't know why. "He" was sitting down next to me, just staring at me, with this unexplainable look on his face.

It didn't took long for me to lose consciousness, and when I woke up, I was chained hand and foot on top of this same mattress I am currently sitting on, I have been here ever since.

I have not left this house once, only 3 times have I ever been allowed to leave this dungeon and go upstairs. Each time I went upstairs, "he" forced me to watch the news stories about me missing.

"They know who took me, "he" is their number one suspect, problem is, no one knows where we are. I don't know where we are.  
I have looked out the little widow I have, and even briefly a window upstairs, but all I see out the windows are just trees, trees, and more trees.

I have a big fear that I will never get out of this hell hole, and as the days go by, my hopes die more and more.

There are days where I wish they would just kill me, especially when I'm being "punished".

I don't know how much more I can take.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry I haven't been updating, have been going through a lot of personal issues right now, but I will finish the story, it just may take awhile. Please be patient with me. I love reviews. Whenever I refer to someone as "him", it will be her captor, anyone else I refer to as him, I won't have quotations around the word. Thank you for understanding.

Suddenly I heard a knock at the front door, followed by what I assume "him" opening the door, and some talking. A lot of talking, by multiple different voices. I didn't like the sound of this.

I heard footsteps get closer and closer to the door of the basement, two different footsteps to be exact. One I guessed to be "him" and the other one I'm assuming to be his dealer.

Sometimes it isn't always "his" dealer, its whoever will give him drugs, or even money I have found out. I don't know his name, he just makes me call him "master". I hate him so much, even more then "him"

The door opened, and "he" came down the stairs, but the guy with him I did not recognize, I have never seen this man before, and I didn't have a good feeling about this.

Now, Reba, this is a good friend of mine, you better be respectful and do what he asks." "he" said to me. "he" turned to look at the guy who came down with him. "If she gives you any issues at all, let me know." "he" tapped his "friend" on the shoulder and went back upstairs to his other "friends".

The guy stood there and looked down at me and smiled a sinister smile, I knew I was in for a day of hell.

I came to find out how many men were upstairs with "him", six to be exact.

I was able to count them when they all came down, one after the other, taking their turns on me, back to back to back, with no breaks in between. "He" was the last one to come down and take his turn, high as a kite. No surprise there.

I was in so much pain, and was bleeding down there. I struggled to stand after awhile after I finally found the strength to get up.

They all left after the last guy was done, and right before "he" came down.

I stumbled to the tiny bathroom I had in my cell. Usually I had to have permission to shower or else I would be punished, but I honestly didn't care, I was going to risk it. I needed to clean myself.

I was in there for a long time, I have never felt so dirty in my life. This isn't the first time being raped, and I'm sure it won't be the last, but this was the first time there was that many "men" at once.

After a long time, and the hot water running out, I decided to finally get out. I had some raggedy, dirty old clothes that I had no choice to change back into. A raggedy, holey, plain white t-shirt, and grey sweatpants, minus underwear and bra.

When I got dressed and stepped out, I seen a big tray of food laying on my mattress, with a bottle of water. My "award" for being "good".


	3. Chapter 3

It has been a quiet three days, "he" has only came down to give me food, two small meals a day. And when I say small, I mean small.

I am sitting on the mattress thinking on the day this all started, three long, excruciating months ago.

I didn't give up easily, I fought hard. "He" must have known I would have not gone down easily, because for the first few weeks I was tied up tightly all the time, and hardly fed, making me weaker as the time went on.

I believe that was "his" plan all along. "He" knows me very well, we have been best friends for over twenty years.

We have worked together on many projects, and toured a few times together, drugs have changed him drastically and it terrifies me. I don't know who he is anymore./p

I remember when I first woke up down here, I was angry and scared. I fought him as hard as I could every time he came anywhere near me. All it did was cause me pain. I would either get beat, or denied food and water for an even longer time.

After awhile, I realized I wasn't going to win this fight.

I realized that after I had gotten loose from the ropes tying my arms behind my back, I didn't get my ankles free before "he" came downstairs, but I still fought, hard.

When "he" got near me, I jumped on "his" back. Surprisingly, I was able to knock "him" down to the ground. It shocked "him" at first, but "he" was quick to recover, and it didn't take long for "him" to get control of me again, but I did get a few good hits and scratches on "him", and let me tell you, it felt great.

"He" was so angry, and it scared me more then ever before and ever since. "His" angry face was the last thing I had seen before "he" punched me, hard, knocking me out cold.

I woke up still in the basement tied up, tight, gagged, and blindfolded. "He" left me down there for five days tied up, not checking on me once.

On the fifth day, I was barely hanging on to life, knowing that day would be my very last day if I didn't get any water or food.

The more the day went on, the more I feared "he" had left me down here to die.

I know "he" had a camera down here looking in so "he" could keep an eye on me while "he" was upstairs, but that didn't seem to matter to "him".

"He" did finally come down near the end of the day. For a few minutes, "he" just stood there staring down at me. I just looked at "him" with pleading eyes, since I couldn't talk. It bothered me so much that I relied on everything to keep alive on "him", and I hated "him" so much for doing what "he" is doing to me.

"He" leaned down to my level and took the gag out of my mouth. I didn't have the strength to speak, I just whined, it was kind of pathetic.

"He" did give me water and food that night, and raped me repeatedly that night, my other "punishment" for overtaking "him".

Two and a half months have passed since that night, and I am too scared to try and fight "him" again, I am also too weak too. I wish I had when I had the chance, because I feel this will be my life until I die, it will probably be by "his" hands.


End file.
